


Paperwork And Chill

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Some innuendo, mulder is trying to score, neck kisses, scully is trying to work, slightly nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 23:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17693192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Neck kisses can be very persuasive.





	Paperwork And Chill

He’s been watching her for a while now; the way her long, delicate fingers fly over the laptop’s keyboard fascinating to him. This is not what Scully envisioned when she asked him over to finish the paperwork on their latest case, he’s sure of it.

But work is not on Mulder’s mind. He knows what these fingers can do. Oh, yes, he knows it oh so well. His body shivers, remembering her touch the night before. Her fingers wrapped around him, moving gently. The softest, sweetest touch. At first. She picked up speed and… Mulder stops right there. They’re working here, or should be. He adjusts his pants; they’ve suddenly become a little tight.

He can’t stop watching her, though. His Scully is beautiful, especially when she shows him her causal side. She’s put her hair up in a messy ponytail, a few strands escaping and curling at her neck. The need to touch them, to touch any part of her, is intense. Almost as intense as his love for her. He is a lucky bastard, that’s for sure.

“I can hear you thinking, Mulder,” she says without looking at him, without even stopping to type.

“What am I thinking about then?” He squiggles closer, like a snake. Scully is sitting on the floor, her legs crossed as if she were studying for her final exams and not writing up a report on a small town cryptid that killed guinea pigs for sustenance. Mulder, sprawling on the couch, leans closer to glimpse at her writing. Her hair tickles his nose and he gets a whiff of her shampoo. Strawberry, vanilla and Scully. He wants to bury his nose in her hair but isn’t sure she’d appreciate it.

“You’re smelling my hair again.”

“What do you mean by ‘again’?”

“Mulder, I know you like to believe you’re subtle, but you’re really not.”

“Busted.” She’s typing furiously, not saying another word. Mulder thinks the conversation is over, his chance to do more than sit here and banter gone.

“I like it,” she admits and tilts her head, stretching her neck; whether for his benefit or not, but Mulder grins. It’s like an offer and he, being who he is, would never even think of refusing. He leans closer, this time almost falling off the couch. Kissing her swan-like neck, though, is worth it. Her taste is divine and driving him insane, just like her scent. Before Scully, he’s never felt skin so soft, so smooth. Never tasted anything so pure, so addictive.

“Mulder.” She turns his name into a sigh and if she wasn’t giving him more access to her skin, he’d stop. But she leans back against the couch and he peppers her neck with hundreds of tiny kisses. “Don’t you dare give me a hickey. Skinner is on to us.” Except Mulder doesn’t care. His lips linger and for a moment he considers marking her to show the world that she’s his. Or at least the Bureau. He doesn’t. He moves on, leaves kisses wherever he can reach.

“You never told me what you think I’m thinking,” he murmurs against her skin, his mouth moving along, finding her scar. That’s where he lingers, always. She’s warm there, full of life. He kisses the spot tenderly and waits for her answer.

“You’re thinking of sex.”

“I’m appalled.”

“Am I right?”

“What do you think?” More kisses and to hell with it, he needs to suck her neck. Just for a second. Just-

“Mulder!” Her hand swats at his face as if it were a fly or a bee. He smiles against her warm, now slightly bruised, skin. They could have been doing this for years if that bee hadn’t stung. Those days are behind them. Now they work together in her apartment on Friday nights, with Scully wearing revealing V-neck sweaters and her letting him kiss her. They fuck, too. A lot. The 'we-only-sleep-over-at-weekends-’ rule was abandoned almost as soon as it was established. All bets are off. If Scully lets him stay over during the week, surely she won’t mind a little bit of action, a little bit of procrastination. It is the weekend, after all.

“You were right, Scully,” he says in a seductive voice.

“I need to finish this report.”

“It’s Friday night,” he complains, taking her earlobe between his teeth. Her fingers still over the keyboard after, he’s proud to notice, missing one too many letters. He grins at the typos for a second longer before he indulges in the taste of her skin.

“We shouldn’t.” Scully’s complaint is weak as her hand comes up and touches the side of his face. To keep him there, he figures. He has no plans of going anywhere else anywhere. Not yet. 

“We deserve a night off, Scully.”

“We had one yesterday.” A half-truth. They were too tired to work last night, coming home late. They just weren’t too tired to work on each other. With their mouths. He takes her skin between his teeth and Scully whimpers. She did that, too, last night.

“I promise I’ll help you write that report tomorrow.”

“Promises, promises.” But she’s moaning. She has abandoned the laptop and one of the files threatens to slip to the ground. To hell with it. The angle is not perfect, but Mulder makes it work. His kisses become heated and he wants to taste more of her.

“Get over here, Scully,” he grumbles and she giggles. With any other woman, he might feel insecure. Not with Scully, though. He loves to hear her giggle. Whether they’re about to have sex, in the middle of it or after. He wants to hear her giggle every day, all the time.

“You need to make room for me on the couch, Mulder,” she says gently, touching his cheek. The same fingers that were typing away like there was no tomorrow mere minutes ago are now on his face. Her thumb wipes at his cheek, her eyes and lips smiling.

“You’re so beautiful.” His emotions threaten to overwhelm him any second now.

“So are you.” Scully latches on to his neck just like he did to hers. He groans; the feeling of her lips on him – no matter where they are – too powerful.

“Hey, you said no hickeys.” Mulder isn’t sure whether he’s complaining or not. It feels too good.

“Maybe I want you to wear that grey turtleneck.” She says the words against his skin, her teeth scraping against him.

“You could have just asked.” But if he’s honest, he doesn’t care. He’ll wear a turtleneck, all right. For the next year if he has to. As long as Scully doesn’t stop what she’s doing. Her mouth on his neck, her hand stroking his thigh inching closer and closer where he wants her most.

He’s so glad it’s the weekend. He’s going to enjoy it.


End file.
